20th Century Fox
by Sen-chan21
Summary: A series of drabbles about the relationship between America and England in the last half of the 20th century. Similar to my "Hello World" series but all USxUK.
1. Tattoo

**A/N: So recently, I heard someone say that the reason they hated USxUK was because everywhere they saw it portrayed in a way that was very unhealthy for both of them. I'd also noticed that we always see stories of these two set during WWII or modern times, but never in between. So I decided to write this story to portray the way I see their (very healthy) relationship in the latter half of the 20th century. Enjoy!**

**Year: 1976**

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><p>Alfred would never forget the evening of July 17, 1976.<p>

He'd just returned from France, and found home still pumped from his own bicentennial. He was finishing up some work for a budget meeting Monday, trying to get done so he could enjoy his weekend.

Just as he set aside his work and prepared to go in search of dinner, the phone on his desk rang.

"Hello?"

"…Alfred." The voice was slurred and very British. That thicker accent that Arthur always slipped into after a few drinks.

Alfred grinned. "Hey Artie!" he answered cheerfully. "You're drunk aren't you?"

"Mmm…I might be a little buzzed. Anyway, there's a reason I called you."

Alfred valiantly fought back his laughter and managed in an even voice, "Yes, of course honey," he could just picture Arthur bristling at the nickname, "and what was that?"

"I juss though' I would inform you…" he slurred, "that I'm getting a tattoo."

Alfred only hummed in agreement and mentally ran through the known contents of his kitchen, used to Arthur's drunken schemes.

"…right now."

Alfred blinked at that. "Wait, what? Arthur where are you?"

There was another pause while Arthur's alcohol-soaked mind processed the question before he responded, "Outside the shop."

The American snorted. "So let me get this right," he managed through the laugh straining his voice. "You're drunk, calling me from a payphone outside a tattoo parlor at…" – he checked the clock – "almost two in the morning, to tell me you're getting a tattoo when we hang up."

"…yes."

Alfred shook his head. "Just remember what year you're in, babe. It'll kinda kill the mood if I have to see Francis's name tattooed across your chest every time I take your shirt off."

Arthur made a sound of indignation and muttered something along the lines of "As if I'd…bloody frog..." and the line went dead.

Alfred set down the phone and continued to the kitchen, amused , a little worried, and very curious.

[Two Weeks Later]

"Come _oooon_, Arthur," Alfred whined, despite the giggles threatening to escape at any moment.

Arthur firmly batted away Alfred's hands from their attempts to untuck his shirt.

"No. I refuse to show you just so you can laugh at me."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "You know I'm going to see it anyway, Arthur. Unless you think you can just manage without sex forever." He grinned, "And somehow I think you'd be even worse at that than I would."

Arthur blushed and huffed before unbuttoning his trousers and shifting them down slightly and lifting the bottom of his shirt – pointedly not meeting Alfred's eyes – to reveal a bold black six-string guitar on his right hip.

Alfred stared at it for a moment then grinned up at Arthur. "Sexy." Arthur rolled his eyes and Alfred chuckled but insisted, "No really, it's badass. I like it."

Arthur still wasn't meeting his gaze, but Alfred didn't give him much time to respond before moving to show Arthur just how much he liked his tattoo.

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><p><strong>AN: Like it? Subscribe for more! I have two more chapters almost ready to publish and a whole list of ideas. Also, the title of the story comes from a song of the same name by 38 Special. There's really no relation between the story and the song though. I just like the sound of it :3 Please review. **


	2. Are You Fruking Kidding Me

**A/N: You all know what episode this is based off of XD**

**Year: 1956**

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><p>Alfred rummaged through Arthur's cabinets, hoping to surprise his boyfriend with a decent dinner, but since he hadn't had the time to go shopping for appropriate ingredients, he would have to make do with the current contents of Arthur's cupboards. It was looking like his best bet would be soup.<p>

He gathered all the necessary ingredients on the counter, and heard the front door opening just as he was filling the pot with water. Arthur was home. Well damn, there went his surprise. Oh well, Arthur would still appreciate it, he was sure.

"Alfred!" Arthur called, "Are you here?"

"In the kitchen!" Arthur entered, already loosening his tie, and smiled. Alfred beamed at him. "I'm making dinner! I wanted to surprise you but...yeah, obviously not gonna happen. Anyway, how was the meeting? Francis doin' good?"

Arthur crinkled his nose – and Alfred fought the urge to scoop him up and cuddle him just for being cute – and answered a bit bitterly, "Apparently he's not doing so well. I have an interesting story to tell you."

"Oh?"

Arthur hesitated. "He asked me…to marry him"

There was a clanging noise as Alfred dropped the knife he'd been about to use.

"…what?"

Arthur laughed at his expression, stuck somewhere between dumbfounded and ready to kill Francis. "Relax Alfred," he soothed, winding his arms loosely about the American's neck. "I'm more amused by it than anything now." His expression darkened a bit before he added, "Not that I was so amused then he tried to force me to sign a marriage license…"

"HE DID WHAT?" Alfred shouted, eyes widening.

"Mm, he just wants me to save his sorry arse but won't admit it." He ran a comforting hand through Alfred's hair. "Don't worry love, I'm still _legally _single."

Alfred narrowed his eyes, arms tightening instinctively. "Mine," he growled.

Arthur shivered, having learned in the last few years that a possessive Alfred almost always meant good things, and smirked at him, murmuring, "All yours."

Alfred reached back to turn off the stove. Dinner could wait; he had more important matters to attend to. He released Arthur's waist only to grasp his hand and guide him to the bedroom, Arthur eagerly following.

He'd have to remember to thank Francis later.

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><p><strong>AN: …I swear they won't all end in sex. It's just…well a healthy sex life is part of a healthy relationship right? :D I didn't exactly intend for it to end this way, but these two are horny and in love and don't listen to me (though they listen better than Ludwig and Feliciano…but I'm getting off track). Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the next is already complete but not typed. I'll post it soon, but first I have an American Lit midterm to fail tomorrow. Please let me know what you thought!**


	3. Nightmare

**A/N: Quick note about mentions of the Cold War. It was still going on at this time, but discussion of it refers to the early Cold War paranoia of the 1950s-60s. **

**Year: 1984**

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><p>As Arthur ran a hand through Alfred's hair, feeling his breathing even out in his sleep and his grip on Arthur loosen slightly, he thought how similar this situation was to more than two hundred years earlier, Alfred cuddling up to him for comfort after a nightmare. But it wasn't the same thing. Not really.<p>

As a child, Alfred had been scared of ghosts and things that went bump in the night (and admittedly, he frequently still was), often running and climbing into Arthur's bed when he woke – or simply couldn't sleep – snuggling into the safety of Arthur's arms and sleeping peacefully.

Now, it was so very different, but still Alfred depended on him.

When he woke up screaming, in memories of pain, distress, faces of men he killed and those who died for him. There were things Arthur understood and remembered from the World Wars in Europe, and things he did not. The Cold War fear that he would lose everything, Arthur included; the absolute hell of Vietnam and the guilt attached to it.

And there were things that plagued Arthur's dreams that Alfred would never know. His days as a pirate, an empire, killing anyone who stood in his way, taking anything he wanted. Alfred had not been there for the Blitz, the constant fear that the war would destroy his people and his history, hadn't experienced the terror of those moments.

They needed each other. To offer a tight embrace, a comforting kiss, something to anchor themselves to the present, where they were safe, happy, loved.

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><p><strong>AN: As with "Hello World" I'll be listing this story as complete now so that it will show up in searches, but I still plan to add more, so please drop me a review and hopefully I'll have the next chapter up soon!**


	4. WildEyed Southern Boy

**A/N: So, I finished this back around Thanksgiving, and I was going to type it right away…but life happened, and then laziness kicked in, and I'm seriously forcing myself at the moment because I'm operating on four and a half hours of sleep and five and a half hours of working at a children's clothing store with awful repetitive Christmas music. I intended to write a Christmas chapter but, yeah.  
><strong>

**So, um, this is a summer-themed/set chapter but… Merry Christmas?**

**Year: 1992**

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><p>"C'mon Arthur, hop on." Alfred grinned, patting the seat behind him.<p>

Arthur simply stared. Darting through the streets of Washington D. C. on Alfred's motorcycle was one thing – and Arthur would even admit it was a bit of a thrilling one – but this…

Of course, the Alfred presented to him here was not the smartly-dressed, professional government official he found in D.C. either. Currently, Arthur could not determine which was more tattered, Alfred's faded pale blue jeans, or the athletic shoes that might have once been white, but had been so covered in mud, soil, and sand in their time that they were a sort of off-white tan that would never wash away. He also sported a white Mississippi State football t-shirt and a baseball cap with the Dallas Cowboys logo on the front, his sunglasses – those aviators he'd had since the early 80s – resting on the bill. Overall, Arthur had to admit the image was rather endearing and had its own charm.

What was _not_ endearing however, was the idea that Arthur was actually going to get onto that bloody four-wheeler, just so Alfred could go splashing through mud (he'd mentioned there was a creek around here) or driving through brush that would catch on Arthur's clothes and leave bits of grass in his hair.

Alfred, the manipulative little bastard, widened his eyes a bit and batted those long pale eyelashes at him. "_Please_, Arthur…" he pouted, puppy eyes at full force.

Arthur glared at him for a moment more – those eyes were _not _fair – and sighed. Finally giving in, he slung one leg over the seat and wrapped his arms around Alfred's waist. Alfred cheered and turned halfway to kiss him before revving the engine and calling over the sound, "Put your sunglasses on, babe. Don't want bugs flying in your eyes!"

Arthur groaned and shifted his glasses from his hair back down over his eyes, and Alfred pulled his own off the bill of his cap and settled them on his face. Arthur barely had time to clench his arms back around Alfred's torso before he took off down the steep gravel driveway and onto the dirt road that seemed to stretch endlessly between the trees on either side.

They came to a point where the actual gravel road took a sharp turn, but of course Alfred ignored it and turned onto the dirt path in the other direction.

Arthur was fairly certain there had been some kind of crops growing in this field the last time he had seen it ("Soybeans," Alfred reminded him later, though he honestly didn't care that much), but at the moment it was only grass, and – as expected – Alfred tore through it, heading for the wooded area on the far edge. Arthur realized, as twigs predictably tugged at the bottoms of his jeans, that Alfred was indeed heading for the creek.

An hour later, after a time spent splashing along the banks (and getting stuck in the mud, so that Alfred had to pull the vehicle out of it – a feat that usually would have required a truck and an iron chain) and "exploring" the woods, they returned to the house-trailer Alfred used as a weekend place here and climbed into Alfred's truck, heading toward town.

A few minutes outside of town (though technically within the city limits) they turned at a little country store, a few cars parked in front and two old gas pumps in the center of the lot.

A bell chimed as they walked through the door, and a few people looked up, smiling and greeting Alfred familiarly. He pushed the bill of his cap up slightly as he nodded to the woman standing behind the counter.

"Howdy, Miss Kay," he drawled, offering her an easy grin as he walked farther into the building. A few aisles of shelves stood to one side, with a refrigerator along the far wall, on the other side a section of fishing tackle and bait, and in the center of the room were a few tables and chairs, with people sitting around them and chatting.

As the two nations joined them, Alfred shook hands with a middle-aged man Arthur perceived to be the owner, exchanging a few words before Alfred gestured to him.

"Mr. Larry, let me introduce Arthur Kirkland. He's a buddy of mine from work up in New York. Thought I'd bring him here for a little hunting trip and some _real_ food, show him there's more to this country than the big city." Alfred smiled. "Arthur, this is Larry Harmon. He owns this place."

Arthur nodded and shook hands with him in greeting. An older, grey-haired lady in glasses and an apron bustled over to them and Alfred smiled at her. "Hey there, Sara. How are you?"

Sara patted his shoulder fondly. "I'm doin' just fine. Can I get you boys something to eat?" He flashed her a winning grin and a wink and ordered for them.

"Yeah, get us a burger for my friend here and a barbeque sandwich for me. With a coke and water." She nodded and scribbled their orders onto her notepad before making her way through the open doorway to the small kitchen.

Alfred ducked into the back of the room to grab two bottles from the refrigerated section at the back wall, handing Arthur a bottled water and twisting open his own Coke. Arthur was a little struck by the informality of it all as he took a seat at the nearest empty table. Alfred sat across from him, half-turned in his chair, addressing the young woman sitting directly behind him, a baby in her arms.

"And who is _this_?" he asked, smiling at the baby, who simply blinked at him, wide-eyed.

"That's my grandbaby," Larry spoke up proudly. "Ain't she a doll?"

Taking the baby carefully as her mother passed her to Alfred, he bounced her in his arms slightly. "Yes, she _is_, he cooed, letting her grasp his finger. "How old is she?"

Her mother smiled fondly, reaching out to stroke the fine hair on her head. "Almost three months."

Alfred tickled her gently and earned himself a giggle, practically melting at the sound, and Arthur couldn't help but smile as Sara set their food before them and Alfred passed the child back to her mother. "She's a beauty," he commented lightly, "just like her Mama."

The woman rolled her eyes and swatted him, but Alfred just laughed and turned to his food, smiling at Arthur and chancing an affectionate nudge to his foot under the table when no one was looking. Arthur carefully fought back a blush and focused his attention on his burger, which was actually quite good, as Alfred jumped back into the conversation, pulling Arthur into it when he could.

That night, back at the trailer, they showered, washing all the dirt and sweat of the long day from their skin, and fell into bed, craving each other but too tired for any kind of hard, lust-driven sex or slow, draw-out passion. It was short, but tender and satisfying, and they lay in comfortable silence after, smiling softly, Alfred's hand brushing through Arthur's hair, his tracing idle patterns in Alfred's skin.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Alfred murmured eventually, nose dipping into Arthur's messy hair.

Arthur smiled against his shoulder. "Of course, love. I always enjoy seeing different sides of you, watching you interact with your people." His mind drifted back to the baby in the store. "Especially the children."

The American's expression softened into a far-away little grin. "Yeah…I love babies, because, I mean, I'm trying to improve myself for _all_ of my people, but I look at her and it's just…" he paused to find the proper word, passion evident in his voice and expression. "She's so small and innocent and pure, and whatever I do now, good or bad, she's going to inherit that one day. And I want her to have the best I can give her."

Arthur watched him fondly, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

"I can certainly understand that," he agreed softly. And it was true. He wanted the best for the children of his nation, but his mind drifted back to one innocent, pure little boy he had wanted to protect and give the best possible life.

Alfred seemed to read his thoughts and grinned at him, ducking down for a kiss and cuddling into him.

"Night Arthur," he yawned. "Love you." He was asleep before Arthur could reply. He smiled affectionately and kissed his forehead, before falling asleep to the sound of Alfred's heartbeat mixed with the crickets chirping outside.

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><p><strong>AN: So…I wrote that first a/n three days ago….but I'm finally done! I just really wanted to show that Southern!Alfred doesn't always have to be the cowboy or the farmer. Sometimes he's just the cutie in the t-shirt and baseball cap.**

**Here's his full outfit:**

**http: / chocalateandcheeseburgers. tumblr. com / post/ 14632957066/**

**I also believe that wherever he goes, he can behave like one of the locals, and the only way to do that is to write what I know. So everything in this story is real, and all of it existed in 1992, but it wasn't all together yet. The "Harmons" bought their store in 1994, and have now retired.**

**(And as for the identity of the baby….well…. )**


	5. Fairytales

**A/N: Technically speaking, nothing in this chapter takes place in the twentieth century, but as the bulk of it is set only ten measly months into the twenty-first century, I thought it fit here rather well. (The 1703 date is random and meaningless, by the way) Cookies for anyone who figures out where they are and what they're talking about before it's stated!**

**[1703]**

"_Arthur, Athur!" Arthur turned to see Alfred running toward him, a piece of paper clutched in his tiny hands. He stopped before him, beaming up at him with pride. "I've been practicing my letters like you told me to. I made this for you!" He wiggled in place slightly as he held up the paper and opened it for Arthur._

_On the page, in large, sloppy letters and speckled with ink blots were the words, "I LOVE YOU," and a heart shape drawn beneath them. Arthur nearly melted, scooping up the boy into his arms. _

"_It's beautiful, Alfred," he said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "And I love you too."_

_Alfred cuddled against him contentedly. "And soon, I'll be able to read the letters you send me, and write back, instead of having the maid do it for me! Oh! Oh!" he bounced a little in excitement, "and I'll be able to read stories by myself. But I'm sure they'll still be better when you tell them."_

_Arthur kissed the top of his golden hair. "I would love to read your letters, Alfred. And maybe, one day," he mused, "you'll write your own fairytales."_

_Alfred was quiet for a moment. "Arthur? Who's your favorite writer ever?"_

_Arthur paused. "Oh I don't know. I like so many…" he thought for a bit and finally answered, "but I suppose I'm still quite fond of Shakespeare."_

"_Shakespeare," Alfred repeated thoughtfully. He turned his face back to Arthur. "What did he write?"_

"_He wrote several magnificent plays, and lots of beautiful poetry as well." His eyes took on a far-away look as he recalled a time over a century past. "Oh Alfred, he was incredible. He could take a story everyone already knew and make it completely different, completely his own." _

"_Mm…" Alfred swayed a little as he mulled this over. "Do you think I'll ever have someone like that?"_

_Arthur shrugged. "You might. You are young and full of potential Alfred. Anything could happen."_

**[2001]**

"So…"Alfred started uncertainly, hands in his pockets as they followed the small crowd out of the theater and through the last few museum exhibits to the exit. "What did you think?"

Arthur smiled and slipped his hand into Alfred's. "I thought it was lovely," he praised, watching the American's face light up. "It was a wonderful telling of his work and his vision, and his person, as I remember him, though of course you knew him better." They stepped outside and Arthur added, "And it certainly puts all of this," he gestured around them, "into perspective."

"Yeah…" Alfred glanced around at the bustle of movement and noise around them. "This was his dream, you know? Though I don't think he ever dreamed it would get _this_ big." He turned back to the theater and the image above it of the man who had been his friend, who had become an icon and idol in his short life. "I think he'd be proud. I know I'm proud of him."

As they weaved their way between a group of college students and a family of six, Arthur squeezed his hand lightly. "Alfred," he asked, "do you remember, when you were a child, you asked me if you would ever have your own Shakespeare?" When it was clear Alfred was trying to reach into his memories and coming up with nothing, Arthur continued, "I've thought for a long time that your Walt Disney just might be the closest thing the world will ever see to a modern-day William Shakespeare."

He had only a moment to enjoy the shock on the other's face before Alfred pulled him into a crushing hug. "Seriously? That's gotta be, like, the best praise _ever_ coming from you!" He released Arthur and smiled. "Man, I wish he could hear you say that."

Arthur smiled and shook his head. "I'm sure he did, love."

Alfred nodded, quiet for a few moments, and then he checked his watch. "Oh, our dinner reservations are in twenty minutes, come on. And then we should have just enough time to get back to Magic Kingdom for the fireworks show."

Two hours later, Alfred leaned against a bit of railing in the most famous of the Disney parks, arms resting comfortably around Arthur's waist as they watched the fireworks exploding over Cinderella's Castle, set to a wonderful medley of songs and quotes from classic favorite films. When Tinkerbelle flew out over the crowd, Alfred squeezed the Brits waist gently and whispered, "Hey, Arthur?"

"Hm?" Arthur questioned absently, eyes still fixed on the sparkling lights.

"Are there…" he paused and bit his lip, "are there _real_ fairies here?"

Arthur started slightly, his expression melding quickly from shock to something softer and warmer. Alfred had finally accepted the existence of fairies – though he couldn't see them – a while back (notably when they repeatedly stole and hid his things), but it still surprised Arthur sometimes.

"Really?" he asked quietly, studying Alfred's face.

Alfred nodded. "I mean, all the stuff that's supposed to _seem_ like magic is all mechanical and that's cool, but…it just feels like there's still _something _magical about this place. I can't place it, but it's always here."

"But won't knowing ruin the mystery?" Arthur asked, smile still lingering on his face.

Alfred shrugged. "I'm just afraid to hear the answer is no."

Arthur turned around fully and slid one hand up to cup Alfred's cheek, a knowing twinkle in his eyes, intensified but all the lights around them. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Alfred. There were fairies hanging around Walt from the day he was born." Alfred's eyes widened and Arthur's smile only grew. "They were there the day I met him, and they told me they had just sensed that he was special." Arthur swept his gaze over the park. "They're here now, some of them, as are some of my friends who have chosen to stay over the years. This park is every bit as magical as it seems, even if the real magic is invisible.

Alfred beamed and Arthur turned to watch the last of the fireworks burst in the sky, glancing back to see them reflected in Alfred's eyes – and those of the fairy sitting happily unnoticed on his shoulder.

**ANNOUNCEMENT: GUYS! I have a writing tumblr account now! And you're probably much more likely to get updates and kink meme de-anons there, because it's less hassle for me, so GO FOLLOW! (You can follow my main tumblr too (link is on the page) but I **_**really **_**want people to follow the writing one more than the main). right here - libertybelle92 . tumblr . com**

**A/N: I love Alfred and his friendship with Walt Disney. I also think the comparison between Disney and Shakespeare is fairly obvious (imaginative storytellers who didn't always create their own plots, but made their plays and movies very distinctive and lasting), and I don't think Arthur would be ashamed to recognize it. The second portion of the story is set in Hollywood Studios (formerly MGM) park in Walt Disney World, Orlando, Florida, in the "One Man's Dream" exhibit, which opened in October 2001. If you ever get the chance to go to WDW, that's one thing to make sure you see. **

**I hope you liked this chapter! Please take the time to review and remember to subscribe for more!**


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